


If You Can See Me

by shalako



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: But not without good reason, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Gold is a complete and total crybaby, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalako/pseuds/shalako
Summary: Archie and Gold have been dating for two years now, and Gold has decided it's time to make a major confession.





	If You Can See Me

**Author's Note:**

> Clearing out my Google Docs. Title is from the David Bowie song on The Next Day. This fic combines my top 3 favorite headcanons which are 1) that Gold was molested as a child, 2) that Gold is afraid of nuns, and 3) that Gold cries at the drop of a hat. The movies Gold mentions are pretty famous but just in case: Cabaret is about WWII, Fargo is about murder, and A Single Man is about Colin Firth grieving for his dead husband.

It was two p.m. on a Saturday, bright enough still for sunbeams to spray through the kitchen window. They lit upon Gold’s hands as he fidgeted, pacing away from the table and back again, unable to leave the papers there alone for longer than a minute. Today was the day. He’d decided, and there was no going back.

He’d printed off the papers -- some pamphlets, some articles, some excerpts from books -- and he hadn’t deleted the browser history afterward, so even if cowardice got the best of him, even if he shredded the papers and burned the remains, Archie would come home and open up his laptop and see what Gold had been looking at. He would make deductions. Archie was a smart man, one of the smartest people in town, and this was a matter of emotional intelligence, in which case Archie was  _ the  _ smartest.

Next to the papers were two books with creased covers and dog-eared pages streaked with yellow highlighter. Gold’s eyes darted over the titles and a shock went through him; he was so used to reading them in private, to hiding their very existence, that it still scared him to see them lying carelessly on the kitchen table.

And really, he was being far too dramatic about this. 

Gold forced himself to turn away from the papers, away from the ticking clock. He faced the window and stared out at the backyard and the forest just beyond it, running his fingers through his hair. His breath caught when he heard the front door open, and he stiffened, forcing himself not to turn around and frantically check the papers again. He stayed still until he heard Archie’s footsteps padding into the kitchen.

“Gold?” Archie asked. Gold gripped his cane and turned slowly, looking at Archie just long enough to determine that it was, in fact, Archie, before casting his eyes to the floor. He gestured toward the table.

“Sit, please,” he said.

Archie obeyed without hesitation, shrugging his coat off as he sat. He pulled the chair up closer to the table and Gold saw his eyes flicker toward the papers and books quickly before studiously looking away. Gold took a seat, too, leaning his cane up against the table. He clasped his hands over the papers deliberately.

“There’s, uh, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said. He laid one hand flat and lifted the other one up to rub his neck, fully aware that it was a nervous tic and not really interested in stopping himself. “We’ve been dating two years now …”

Archie gave him the softest smile Gold had ever seen but said nothing. Gold cleared his throat and looked down at his papers; the one at the very top of the stack was an outline he’d typed himself, a plan for this conversation that simultaneously embarrassed and comforted him. It helped remind him what to say; he’d planned everything and rehearsed it over and over again, but he still found himself drawing a blank without the outline.

“This isn’t the sort of thing I’d be comfortable with you sharing,” Gold said. “In any relationship, each member needs to have an outside confidant, but this is something I’d like you to keep to yourself. Or at least, keep my name out of it. Treat it the same way you would a … a therapy session.”

He swallowed hard, throat dry, and moved on to the next bullet point before Archie could respond. 

“If you have any questions when I’m done,” Gold said, “I’ve printed off some resources. I’ll try to answer everything myself, but if I can’t, and if it’s not personal, or -- or specific to my experience, then I’m just going to direct you to one of these.”

He waved his hand toward the papers but covered them at the last minute when he realized Archie would probably catch a few words from the titles.

“So,” Gold said, trying to sound clinical and look bored, “childhood sexual abuse.” The words clicked in his throat. He tried not to notice how still Archie was suddenly. “Well, I-I’m sure you’ve dealt with survivors before, so I don’t think we need to discuss the basics. I was molested by my father from the ages of three to eleven. At the same time -- well, starting when I was seven -- there were other men. Strangers in mostly controlled settings. At age eleven, it stopped for the most part. My father left. You knew that already. There were two nuns when I was in a group home, but they were the last.”

He had organized all the papers earlier, stapling certain ones together and placing them all in order so he wouldn’t have to think too much during … this. And thank God for that, because his mind itself seemed to be shaking, and he was all too aware that his hands were doing the same. It was nauseatingly similar to what had happened the last time he talked to the nuns for rent. Gold handed Archie two articles about incest and one about religious abuse, and slid one of the paperback books across the table.

Archie accepted the materials graciously, not looking insulted. He glanced through each of them briefly before setting them aside and turning his attention back to Gold.

“We’ve had sex,” said Gold, “I don’t know, maybe ten times. Not counting oral. Instinct and experience tell me that’s not a lot, for a two-year relationship between adults, but perhaps your experience tells you otherwise?”

He trailed off. Archie shook his head once, slowly, and Gold looked back down at his outline.

“I didn’t think so,” he said. He slid Archie another article, this one an essay on different sexual attitudes of adult survivors. Gold had highlighted all the portions relevant to him. When he was planning all this, he’d thought this would be the most difficult part to articulate, but he found that if he concentrated on the table and didn’t look up at Archie, it was quite easy.

“I know you’re a very gentle person,” he said, “and I thought perhaps if I slept with someone gentle, I would finally enjoy it.”

“But you didn’t,” said Archie, his voice barely audible. A stab of guilt went through Gold.

“Please don’t think I disliked it,” he said, “or that I was in any sort of pain. A lack of enjoyment doesn’t necessarily equate to--”

“You were indifferent,” Archie cut in. Gold’s mouth worked, not quite forming words.

“I -- yes,” he said finally. “I was indifferent. I--”

“You turned on an audiobook,” Archie said. “You said you wanted it for background noise and I wondered why you didn’t just turn on the TV. But you turned on the audiobook for entertainment, didn’t you? So you wouldn’t be completely bored while we were having sex.”

Gold’s mouth felt glued shut. Archie’s voice was completely neutral, his face blank, but Gold could feel the hurt coming off him in waves.

“I’m --” said Gold. “I can’t apologize for making an effort, Archie.”

There was a long silence; slowly, Archie deflated. He looked down at the papers before him, fingers inching over the highlighted words.

“No,” he said. “You’re right.”

Gold let the silence stretch longer on his side, giving Archie the opportunity to continue if he wanted to. Archie didn’t take it, and Gold decided that this aspect of the conversation was over.

“I don’t want to have sex,” he said, moving on to the next bullet point. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll always feel that way. I don’t want to give you false hope, but my entire adult sexuality has been disturbed so … so I’m a bit behind most fifty-year-old men, I suppose, in terms of … development. I’m not going to pretend that where I am now is where I’ll always be.”

He was amazed to hear his own voice, strong and emotionless, and noted dimly that he felt disconnected from his body, like it was taking care of things -- making his jaw move and his lips form words -- while his mind floated somewhere near the ceiling. His hands had stopped shaking -- he wasn’t sure when -- and it wasn’t because he was feeling more confident or more secure. It was because at the moment, he wasn’t feeling much of anything.

“I’m -- I’m dissociating,” he realized aloud. Archie’s eyebrows shot up, mouth forming an ‘o.’ He stood up from the table and dug in his pocket; as he passed Gold on his way to the sink, he pried Gold’s hand open and dropped a coin in his palm. Gold looked down at it; he heard Archie rummaging through the cupboards and turning the water on, but his mind focused on the coin. It was large and foreign -- Irish -- with a horse engraved on it and the year 1939 etched at the bottom.

Gold ran his fingers over it, oddly fascinated. Archie set a glass of water down right by his hand and took his seat across the table again. 

“Remember two years ago, when we were about to start dating, but we were really just friends?” he said softly. “I brought you coffee that day when everyone’s power was out and asked if you were going to the Miner’s Day Festival. You said no, so I invited you to the light show in Kennebunk. And you said yes.”

Gold flipped the coin in his hand and examined the other side.

“You closed up early,” said Archie. “I drove. We got there early, and we found that abandoned theater set by the sea, with all the props just lying about and nobody watching them. I remember I was just worrying they would get water-damaged, that some high schoolers put on a show and nobody thought to clean up and they’d get in trouble, and then I looked at you and you were trying on that flowing fake wizard’s beard. I just about died laughing. I’d never seen you do anything remotely goofy before.”

That brought Gold’s mind back immediately and he made an offended noise, fingers closing around the Irish coin. “I wasn’t being goofy,” he said. “I wanted to see what I looked like with a beard.”

“You were being goofy,” Archie said, grinning. “You had mischief in your eyes.”

Gold scoffed, but didn’t deny it. The truth was, he  _ had  _ been being goofy. He’d realized he had a crush on Archie maybe two weeks before the light show in Kennebunk, and he’d found himself doing increasingly stupid things to make Archie laugh. He’d seen the beard lying among the props at the same time Archie’s eyes turned toward the sea, and he’d acted quickly, knowing the timing had to be perfect or else Archie would just think he was weird.

He slid the coin back across the table. Archie pocketed it, and Gold glanced down at his abandoned outline, wondering if he should even finish. In the end, he slid it and the remaining papers to Archie as well.

“Thank you,” said Archie, “for telling me.”

Gold shrugged minutely.

“It was brave of you,” said Archie. Gold didn’t move at all; he stared down at his hands, shoulders hunched defensively, and listened to the clock on the wall as it ticked.

“It was nothing,” he said finally. “At least, it wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me,” Archie said firmly. He shuffled the papers into a neat pile and stood, stacking the two books on top. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“Yes,” said Gold immediately, relieved. He stood and followed Archie into the living room, pausing briefly to snag Archie’s coat off the chair and hang it in its proper place, by the door. Archie sunk onto the couch and put the papers aside to turn on the TV.

“You pick the movie,” Archie said. Gold sat next to him, falling into Archie’s side.

“ _ Cabaret _ ,” he said. “Or  _ Fargo _ .”

“Real light-hearted,” Archie muttered.

* * *

They were thirty minutes into  _ Cabaret  _ \-- Joel Grey was hamming it up as best he could -- when the full weight of the day settled on Gold’s shoulders. His face crumpled and he did his best to straighten it out and control his breathing, bringing one hand up to hide his face. He hoped it looked casual. He found himself feeling grateful, for the first time in his life, that he frequently cried during odd parts of movies, typically when there was no discernible reason to cry. He hoped that if Archie noticed, he would chalk it up to that.

But the moment the first tear fell and Gold raised his hand to wipe it away, Archie’s fingers closed around his wrist, and he knew there would be no excuses.

“It’s okay,” Archie said. He pulled Gold into a hug.

“I’m so stupid,” Gold whispered.

“Nope,” said Archie. He rubbed Gold’s back and ignored the sudden onslaught of tears. Gold’s voice was thick enough that he could barely be understood.

“I am,” he said. “I should’ve cried when we were talking about it--”

“It didn’t hit you till just now,” Archie said. “That doesn’t make you stupid. It’s a delayed reaction. That’s normal.”

Gold sniffed and buried his face in Archie’s shoulder. He had told people before, but he’d never cried. The circumstances had been different, of course. With Milah, he’d tried to pass it off in a funny anecdote and she’d responded with a scathing tone: “Well, that explains a lot, doesn’t it?” With Cora, the funny anecdote method had worked -- she’d laughed (and that had unexpectedly hurt, even though he’d set it up as a joke) but he hadn’t cried with either of them. 

“Archie,” Gold said. He couldn’t think of any words to follow, but Archie didn’t seem to expect any. He simply held Gold, waiting for the crying to end. The realization that Archie was waiting was what compelled Gold to stop; he pushed away and wiped his face, forcibly cutting off the tears.

“Oh jeez,” said Archie softly, looking pained. “Don’t do that.”

Gold didn’t respond; he groped for his cane and stood, leaving the room. He headed upstairs without any real idea where he was going and circled the hallway for a moment, feeling lost, before he decided on the bedroom. There was a lock on the door; if he had to cry, he could do it in private, without damaging his image in front of Archie.

A small voice in his head assured him that it was far too late for that. He may have only spent five minutes crying in Archie’s arms, but the fact remained that he had still cried in Archie’s arms. And it was hardly the first time Archie had seen him cry. He reminded himself of every moment he could think of, going through each memory one by one.

He’d cried doing the dishes once, and couldn’t remember why. It had been so early in their relationship, too -- only a few weeks after Archie moved in. And then a few days later Archie had started crying, because his cousin had passed away, and Gold had started crying because … well, because Archie was.

He’d cried when they watched  _ Finding Nemo _ together. Twice. He’d cried when Archie put on the soundtrack to Matilda the Musical while they were cleaning the house. He could think of three separate occasions where he’d started crying for no particular reason, just because he’d had a bad day, and once when he’d cried because his dad called, and once because Archie had never read _ Peter Pan _ , and so Gold had tried to explain it to him, and when he got to the part where Peter came back for Jane, not for Wendy…

And once where he cried because Archie had said something nice to him.

Which Archie did a lot.

Gold took a deep breath and found that his eyes weren’t stinging anymore. Feeling a bit underwhelmed and foolish, he stood and unlocked the door; he took a seat back on the bed, curling his fingers in Archie’s favorite quilt. A moment later, it opened and Archie stuck his head in.

“You okay?” he asked. One corner of Gold’s lips twitched in a vague approximation of a smile. The fake smile nearly provoked him to tears again, and he let out an exasperated huff.

“I cry too much,” he said. Archie smiled, didn’t deny it. He stepped into the room and stopped just before the bed, drawing Gold into a loose hug.

“I think it’s warranted today,” he said. “Better you get it out now than bottle it up and -- I don’t know, unexpectedly let it out one day when someone says something vaguely kind to you, or asks you how you are.”

“Right,” said Gold. He’d forgotten about the time he cried because Archie asked him how he was. They hadn’t even been dating then. It was years ago.

God. He resisted the urge to bury his face in Archie’s sweater.

“Let’s finish watching  _ Cabaret _ ,” said Archie. He stood up and pulled Gold with him, turned the two of them toward the door. Gold led the way down the stairs; he caught sight of all his books and print-outs piled on Archie’s desk and let his eyes sweep over them without remark. “Or, you know. Something actually cheerful for once.”

“ _ A Single Man _ ,” Gold suggested, squeezing Archie’s hand.

“Babe,” said Archie, clearly pained. “No.”


End file.
